


The Day the Dragon Came

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Azanulbizar, F/M, Gen, POV Second Person, Pre-Smaug, Smaug takes Erebor, Thorin POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader/Thorin. Takes place on the day Smaug takes Erebor. Eventual Battle of Azanulbizar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Was a Normal Day

The halls of Erebor were alight with the voices of trading Dwarves. Merchants yelled back and forth at each other in Khuzdul. Dwarves shuffled around you, buying and selling and trading. You gave a sigh and pressed onward, determined. You had set out this morning hoping for a short trip to find a gift for your prince. The two of you were to be married in a few short days, and you still hadn't found something to give him yet. You wanted something small, but meaningful. Something he could keep on his person. The men had it easy, in comparison. They could simply buy necklaces or bracelets or rings. You pushed through the throng of Dwarves with a muttered curse in Khuzdul. You wanted to take out your bow and shoot something. Your feet ached in the formal slippers you had worn, aching for the comfortable, heavy boots you preferred. The dress you wore didn't make you happy, either. It was blue silk and expensive, but you still hated it.  You were an archer, not a court lady. 

Your eyes wandered to a merchant's stand where a old dwarf man was selling small rune stones. There were many blank stones set out for customers to examine before buying. The merchant was quiet in relation to the others, and did not receive many customers. You walked over to the stand, curious. A rune stone would make a great gift. Small, something Thorin could carry with him, but with a lot of meaning behind whatever you had written on it. The merchant looked up from a book he was writing in to greet you.

"Oh! Oh! OH!" He said, eyes widening. You gave him a smile. Many knew your name, since you were to marry Prince Thorin, but you could still walk in a crowd without widespread recognition. This little old merchant knew your face aswell. "Hello! Hello (Name), soon to be a princess of Durin. How may I help one such as yourself today?" He stood and waved a hand over the stones he sold, all of which were carved into the shape of smooth ovals. He was tall for a dwarf, with a short, but full, grey beard. His dark brown eyes sparkled. 

"I was thinking to buy a rune stone as my wedding gift to Prince Thorin." you said absently, eyes focused on the stones set in front of you. They were all sorts of colors, reds and blues and blacks and whites. You picked up a dark crimson stone and ran your fingers over it. It was cool to the touch as they all were.  As you turned it, you saw small flecks of gold inside that caught the light. It was beautiful, but you set it down. You didn't want it to be overly extragant. You saw a black stone and picked it up. It wasn't black, you saw as you turned it in the light. It was the darkest blue, and as you turned the stone the light caught the blue tones. It would be perfect. Now the question, what to put on it? 

"This one will be perfect. How many runes could you put on it?" You asked, turning the stone in your hands. You held it out to the merchant to let him see the one you had chosen. He took it in his hands and mouthed something you didn't hear. 

"A few words. No more then two or three on one side, my lady." He said as he put the stone on his workbench to engrave. "White runes, I assume?" You nodded, thinking about what to put on it. A few words to say how you felt about him. You were no poet, no writer. Sometime you didn't understand why Thorin fell in love with you in the first place. The merchant set about finding his tools and paints while you thought, arms folded.

He returned a short moment later and you had decided what to put on the stone. "I think I know, now, sir." You dropped into Khuzdul "Thorin, furkh âzyungel" 

You dropped back to Westeron and smiled a warm smile. "How long until it is finished?"

He thought for a moment. "An hour. Two at the most. I'll try to finish it fast, but the quality is more important then the speed, no?" He sat down and started to work, becoming engrossed in it as dwarven men often did. You nodded and left him to his work.

As you returned to Thorin's room, you thought abour how good the days to come would be. Erebor was rich and had plenty of food, gold and anything else you could imagine. Dale thrived in Erebor's shadow. Thorin would eventually become King under the Mountain, and you would stand by his side. Sometimes that idea scared you. Being royalty. Your father was just an average jeweler, not nobility. Your mother had been a weaver, nothing special. Princesses of Durin were never the daughters of jewelers and weavers, were they?

Entering the room, you were surprised to see Thorin on his knees, rooting through an old chest. His face was drawn, and he looked focused. He wore lightweight brown hunting gear. A bow was strung on his back, and two long knives were tucked into his belt. He didn't seem to notice you come in the door, so you walk over and put a hand on his back.

"Hello, Thorin. What  _are_ you looking for?" You raised an eyebrow and bent down to be at eye level with him.

He jumped a little. "Oh. Hello, (Name)." He stood up and threw a hand into the air. "Father wants me to go hunting with him and some of the nobles. I don't understand why my presence is required for a simple, meaningless hunting trip." He sighed and put his hands on your shoulders. "Sorry to worry you with my problems. How's everything going with you?"

"Fine, just fine, Thorin" you said, laughing. You would  _love_  a hunting trip. Any chance to use your bow was appreciated, and maybe showing off the the pompous nobles wouldn't be bad.

He huffed and crossed his arms. "You laugh at my problems?" His eyes twinkled and you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch. "Maybe I should drag you along with me, hmm? Grandfather won't mind if I bring you along. Some of these nobles would like a look a the soon to be Durin princess." He gave a laugh, hearty and full. "You'll wear a dress?"

You muttered something unitelligibile. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind your air, you said "Thorin, I have somewhere to be in about an hour."

He crooked an eyebrow. "Oh?" he said simply.

"Just something. A small something." You gave a small smile. He was going to try to pry details out of you, but you weren't going to give. This was his wedding present, for Mahal's sake! He wasn't going to hear anything from you.

Thorin shook his head. "Thrain and Thror won't like it, but I guess..." He gave a shrug. He came closer to you and lifted the strand of (color) hair. "How about I fix this?"

You stared at him for a second, not realizing what he was saying. It hit you after a second. He wanted to put braids of  _âzyungâlh_ in your hair. You grinned happily. He was willing to do this, publicly? Thorin had done it once before, after he asked you to marry him. Not many people had seen them. This was different. Nobles would see his, kings. The common people would be seeing yours, but Thorin didn't know that. 

An hour later, you and Thorin sat on his bed. You had just finished his braids and the two of you were beaming. The two you had put in his hair held the hair back around his ears. They were delicate, thin. Intricate.  They cascaded down from his temples down behind his ears. There, the were clasped with beads that bore the symbol of Durin. His face looked beautiful, and you couldn't ask for more. Yours were equally thin. How he had gotten his large fingers to do the intricate work, you didn't know. He had done four, two on each side. They started near the top of your head and came down your hair line. Eventually they came to the back of your head and were all clasped together with a bead of Durin. It made you feel wonderful, the fact that he was willing to do that.

He rose off the bed with a frown. Thorin went about gathering his bow and arrows slowly, wanting to stay here. You smiled and lied down on the bed. Thorin finished gathering his things and came over to you. You sat back up, swinging your feet ungracefuly off the bed. 

Thorin gave a small chuckle at your uncoordinationation. "I'll see you tonight, then? We probably won't be back until nightfall"

You nodded. "I'll be here, waiting."

He smiled a gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. "Goodbye, love"

Thorin left, and for a few moments, you simply sat on the bed, fingers running over the complicated braids. You smiled to yourself, content. Thorin loved you, and that was enough. You bounded off the bed, thinking the runestone should be done by now.

 

~Thorin POV~

Thorin mounted one of the larger ponies before Frerin got here. His brother would always fight Thorin for the large, fast ponies when they were children, and now would be no different. The pony Thorin had chosen was dark grey with a large white blaze. If he remembered correctly, it was named Thunderer. Thorin gave it a pat and legged it over to where the rest of the party was gathering. He saw Dis, Thrain, Thror, and Balin were already here with some of the minor lordlings. Dis sat a small bay pony and chatted amicably with Balin. Balin looked happier than usual, eyes bright and smiling. 

Walking Thunderer over to where Balin and Dis were, Thorin said "Ah! Hello Balin, hello, Sister." He inclined his head to his younger sister, who returned the gesture. She had worn a simple blue riding dress, with white embroidery across the sleeves and skirt. Small pearls from the West adorned the cuffs. She was only a tad overly dress, but she wasn't going to be riding through the woods chasing animals, so it wasn't a problem. 

Balin was wearing hunting garb, as was Thorin. Simple, yet adorned enough so it made him look a Lord. Which, in a way, he was. Balin smiled at Thorin and offered a hand, which Thorin took. 

"Thorin! I was wondering when you'd show up! How are you, good Prince?"

"I'm doing well, Balin." Thorin said politely. "You seem awfully happy, Balin. What's happened?"

"The most wonderful thing! My mother had her babe early this morning, bit early the healer says, but the babe is still well off. A big little boy. She named him Dwalin." Balin was beaming. His little brother was substanisly younger, but would have a good teacher when he needed it.

"Wonderful Balin!" Thorin said with a smile "Dwalin will have a good teacher in you when he comes of age, Balin"

Balin was about to reply when Thrain walked his pony over to the group calmly. He wore fine huntin garb, adorned in many places with the symbol of Durin. Thrain's brown eyes were bright and alert. His long grey beard was neatly trimmed and braided, as was his usual. His pony was a small, sleek bay beast with patches of white. 

"Ah, Thorin. I wondered when you'd show up" He said with a smile as his two children and his cousin all inclined their heads to him. "Where is (name)? I thought you would bring her along."

"She had to stay in the mountain for some small matter, she wouldn't tell me what, exactly. She sent her regards, though."

"A pity. I was hoping to speak with her about the wedding." Thrain took a moment to examine his son. His eyes widened a bit at seeing the braids hanging near his ears. "I assume you spent a bit of time with her, son."

"I did."

"And so had to be so bold as to have her put those in your hair  _now?_ " Thrain looked a bit angry, but not very. More annoyed then angry, but the anger was there. _  
_

"It's not exactly a secret it is not an arranged marriage."

"No need to flaunt it, either son."

"I always figured I had your suppor-"

Thorin was cut off as a terribile wind came down from the north, toppling trees and rattling the standards of Durin that fluttered outside the doors of the mountain. A dragon swooped out from behind the mountain and headed towards Dale. All in the party were dumbfounded. That was no small cold-drake, that was a great Fire-Drake from the north. One of the last of it kind, probably. It was large beyond measure, and its breath was death itself. He was red, a deep crimson red. The drake had scales that would tun away any and all arrows throw agaisnt it. It was Smaug, and he went about destroying the City of Dale, dealing fire and death.

Before Thorin knew what he was doing, he had kicked his pony into a full out gallop.  He was gald he had picked a fast pony, now. He sped towards Erebor, thinking only of the one he loved.  


	2. The Ruin of Smaug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader rises to the challenge, and Thorin despairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> âzyungâl-Lover

You walked through the halls of Erebor to reach the merchant. You tried to ingnore the prying eyes that examined your braids. Most saw the beads of Durin and parted for you. A small relief, not having to push through a throng of people to reach the old dwarf. It was a bit unnerving, though. Once you married Thorin, these people would leave a path for you twice as large. You had been born to the middle class, and seeing them part for you was strange.

Eventually you reached the merchant. He was working on a bright white stone, not the one you had ordered. He looked up when you walked to the stand and smiled. He held up a finger and turned to a small table he had set up in the back. It was covered in rune stones that had been finished, or needed the color put on the rune carvings. He rummaged through the stones until he found yours. Turning to you, he offered it to you for inspection.

It was beautiful, just as you imagined it. The white runes contrasted the dark blue stone and highlighted the silver streaks. It was smoother then when you had chosen it, but still perfect.

"It's perfect." you told the merchant, running your fingers over the stone. "How much will it be?"

He grinned, pleased that the Prince of Durin would be getting one of his stones. "Only three silvers, m'lady."

You set the stone down as you fished the coins out of your belt pouch. You handed him four coins, since it was so perfect. 

"One extra, since you finished it so quickly and nicely."

He beamed happiness. "Thank you, Princess. Thank you." He gave a bow and you laughed.

"I am no princess yet, good dwarf. A simple jeweler's daughter who fell in love with the prince. Have a good day, sir." You nodded to him and walked away, slipping the stone into your belt pouch.

You heard it then, the terrible, unnatural wind sweeping down the mountain. The chatter of trading dwarves stopped in an instant. They knew that sound. The sound of a dragon. You ran through the crowd out to the balcony. Looking out, you saw a great red dragon. He had two wings and two legs, like a bat. His tail was long and thick, ending in a fierce looking barb. The wings of the dragon stretched impossibly long, the cause of the wind. His head was spiked and fearsome, mouth open wide to spew fire down on Dale. 

Your thoughts raced. You had to get as many people out as possible. One of your new responsibilities as a soon to be princess. So you went up a guard and took his bow unceremoniously. He fought a bit, but you gave him a look to freeze boiling water. He stopped and stood there, dumbfounded. 

"I am (name), and I order you to gather up as many people as you can and get them out. Now." You spoke coolly, accepting no arguments. "Quiver." He handed it over and you strapped it to your back. You drew an arrow and notched it to your bow. Turning to the confused merchants, you spoke in your loudest, most commanding voice.

"If everyone would calmly follow me, we will leave by the front gate before the Fire Drake turns his attention to the mountain. Calmly, please. Don't return to your chambers, just follow me." You turned on your heel and proceeded to jog towards the front gate, a horde of confused, unarmed merchants following you. You prayed to Mahal you weren't leading them to their deaths.

When you reached the front gate, you found it sealed against the drake. Guards were milling about, making the mountain defensible. A long formation was gathered with Fundin at the head. You waved a hand at the merchants, and asked them to stay calm and quiet. You walked over to Fundain. From what you knew, he was Balin's father and a distant relative of Thorin's. 

He saw you approaching and came over to you. He had a remarkably long grey beard. He was heavily armored, and flipped up a visor on his helmet to reveal bright blue eyes. He was old, but still young enough to fight. 

"Fundin, if I'm not mistaken?" you said politely.

"Yeah, and who are you?" He said in the rough tones only a long time solider could have.

"(First Name)(Family Name), Thorin's betrothed. Where are you directing people to leave the mountain?"

"Down to the Lower Halls, the back exit.  I fear most won't make it. The dragon is at the door's now, and I don't know how long they will hold. If you're going, go now. Mahal save us, we might just lose the Mountain." He spoke in hushed tones, not wanted to cause a panic in either the ranks of soldiers or the already fearful merchants.

You nodded solemn. "If we don't make it, Fundin, tell Thorin... tell him I tried." You voice cracked, but you stuffed the emotion down. You needed to be strong for these people. They were basically leaderless, and your were the closet thing they had to royalty.

He nodded and clapped a hand on your shoulder. "When they told me his betrothed was an archer, I didn't think much of it. But the Durin line needs new blood, and you're well suited for it. Mahal sped you along your way, (name)." He sounded sincere and honest. You nodded grimly and turned to the merchants.

"To the Lower Halls! We'll need to run if we want to make it. Orderly, now." You picked up a steady run, something you could maintain, and the merchants followed willingly. 

~Thorin~

Thorin leaned low over the pony's neck, urging more speed. He wasn't sure if the pony had anymore speed, but he would take what it had. He might kill the poor beast, but that was secondary to his love. He pulled his pony to a halt as Erebor came into view, and the mountain smoked with dragon fire. The guard had blocked the front gate, and the drake tore at the door. Thorin would not be getting in that way, then. The Lower Halls, maybe? He knew of a service door there, that provided access to the Forges. It was used as a quicker way of delivering metals and sending off finished goods. He heeled the pony towards the door, hoping he would find her there.

Thorin became aware of the hoof beats of approaching ponies. He slowed the pony and wheeled around in one fluid motion, to come face to face with Thror, Thrain and Dis. They looked at him accusingly, harshly.

"Thorin, stop this foolishness. Come back with us. Some of the survivors have found us, and we need to lead them. You can't be running off to save one dwarf. Even the one you love. It hurts, Thorin, I know. Do you see me running off to get your mother? Kingdom first, Thorin. I taught you this." Thrain said in the disproving tones only a father upset with his son could use. He walked over to Thorin's pony and tied a rope to it's bit before Thorin could move away.

Thorin protested, fought, bellowed in anger. As he tried to tun his pony away, it reared at the confusing signals it was receiving, nearly throwing Thorin. He surrendered to going to the makeshift camp the dwarves had set up, silently crying into his hands. He knew his duty, but it crushed his soul to leave her behind

~Reader~

As you reached the door, you realized how small it was. It might fit two abreast at once, if Mahal favored you today. The heat of the forges around you was an unwelcome reminder of the dragon circling Erebor. The smiths and miners had already fled, hopefully to find their King. The group of Dwarves was smaller, now. A few merchants trailing at the back of the group hadn't been able to escape the dragon as he dealt death and breathed destruction. The merchants behind you were dirty from the soot in the air, their faces streamed with tears. They had seen the destruction wrought by the dragon, narrowly escaping with their lives. He had come through the great hall, ripping apart dwarves as they died, screaming in agony. They had seen the burnt corpses, they dragon fire in the halls. It would never leave them, that sight, and you knew it would never leave you. You knew you would have nightmares about it for the years to come, if you made it out of here. 

The group looked to you for answers. You turned to them, saddened by the looks of grief on their faces. 

"We have suffered great loses today. Friends, relatives. We have seen them all die in front of us. Will we sit here and mop, waiting for that damned dragon to get us too? I think not. We are the Dwarves of Erebor, greatest of the Seven Kingdoms. We will survive, and flourish, if not here in Erebor. Come now, everyone. Through the door, in pairs of two."

As the saddened merchants walked through the door, you realized your little speech had done little except get them moving. You saw the little old merchant who sold you the stone crying silently. He had lost everything, apparently. His shop, his family. Most had. None of Durin's Folk would go to sleep today without a sad heart. 

You ushered the last few dwarves through the door and went out yourself. The door opened up at the base of the mountain. Rocks merged with dirt and trees seamlessly. There were a few scattered boulders, and a beaten path in the dirt where carts had come delivering metals and goods from the Elves and Men. A few of the dwarves had picked up weapons from dying guards to arm themselves with. They stood along the edges of the group, weapons drawn against attack.  You yourself had the bow you took from the gaurd out, arrow notched. You hadn't had the need to loose any yet, since the Dragon's hide would simply reflect meager arrows such as yours. 

You knew Thorin and the others who went with him were hunting. What you didn't know, was where they were hunting. They usually went south to hunt, since the River Running often drew game. They should still be there, having no reason to leave. Balin would be there, as would Thror and Thrain. Dis and Frerin should be there too, so the whole of the royal family would be there. Safe from the dragon's wrath. 

You sighed. If they left this place on foot, there was the chance of exposure to the elements. It was autumn and the air was beginning to grow cold come nightfall. Peering at the sky, you figured you had maybe an hour or two before it started to get dark. It would take you at least an hour to reach Thorin, considering you had a mass of people to move without ponies. 

You started the mass of people moving to the south, being as gentle and kind as you could be. They were a broken people, now. Refugees. As were you, you thought bitterly. A refugee in a world where refugees were scorned, turned away. It would not be an easy life from now on. Thorin would have to take up metal working, and a lot of the nobles would be forced into jobs they didn't want in order to feed themselves and their families. No, the Dwarves of Erebor would not have an easy life from now on.

As you thought these bitter thoughts, you saw something on the tall rise to the east. You couldn't tell what it was, exactly, but something was up there. You watched for a moment, enthralled, before you saw a huge elk in front of a small army of elves. Thranduil! With the help of the Greenwood Elves, and the remants of the Dwarven force, they might be able to take the mountain back.  You waved frantically at them, some of your fellow Dwarves doing the same.

But Thranduil, who rode the elk at the front, turned away. He left you and the merchants to fend for yourselves. The elven army followed him back to the Greenwood, your hopes of reclaiming Erebor today gone as fast as they had come. A tear trickled down your face, but you wiped it away quickly. These people couldn't see you fall to the same sadness that threatened all of them.

~Thorin~

Thorin sat on a small rock, head in his hands. Dwarves mulled about the make-shift camp, faces blank and lifeless. Everyone had lost something today. He had lost one of the only things that  _really_ mattered.  His âzyungâl. The woman he was to marry. He had never considered he would lose her, not like this. Old age, sickness, those would have been easier to handle, if still difficult. Dragon-fire? No, that was too much for Thorin. He cried silently, shoulders heaving.  No tried to approach him, knowing they would only make it worse. Make it worse, or incur the wrath of the Durin Prince. If given an excuse, Thorin would snap into a fit of rage, if only to bury his grief for a while.

The sky was beginning to turn the dark purple of dusk. Cook fires lit up around the camp, hundreds of Dwarves settling down for the night. Thror and Thrain had elected to stay here, part hoping for more Dwarves to find their way out of the Mountain, part wanting to rest and begin to ease the broken spirits of the Dwarves. Thorin hoped beyond hope that (name) would find her way to the temporary camp. But the cold, unfeeling part of him knew she wouldn't. The chill of autumn hung in the air, threatning the cold winds of winter.  She would be alone, cold in the dark. The exposure would get her, if the wild animals didn't. Assuming she got out of the Mountain before Smaug took it for his own. The thought made him cry out in pure grief.  Thorin pulled at his black hair, wanting to smash something. His eyes were shut against the tears, as if he could refuse that they were there. He stayed like that for a few moments, sobbing uncontrollably into his palms.

Someone walked over to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Thorin looked up to see his sister with a worried expression on her narrow face. Her black hair was matted and thrown into a sloppy bun. Dis's brown eyes were hollow and empty.

"Thorin." She said simply, kneeling  to look him in the eyes. She sighed. "Thorin, you can't do this to yourself."

"Why not? What's left for me, Dis?" His voice threatened to crack, but he spoke coolly, biting back his anger. 

"Thorin, you're the heir of Durin. The people are looking to you for guidance. They relate to you. They can't see you break. Not for anything."

"I don't care!" He screamed at his sister. "I just want (name), here, with me!" Tears that had threatened earlier now spilled from his eyes, revealing what his angry mask tried to hide.

"Oh, Thorin." She cooed. "I know you loved her. But what about Frerin? We haven't hea-" She was interrupted by the sudden rush of people over to the west side of the camp. Dozens of people got up and went running over. A large mass was forming around something neither of the siblings could see. People laughing and hugging, overjoyed. The shouts of little children in the arms of their fathers, women hugging men.

Thorin and Dis both got up wordlessly and walked over to the source of the commotion. Thorin started to jog when he saw the soot covered dwarves slowly leaving the group. They looked like merchants, and they leaned on family members, laughing through tears. They had lost everything, but had found something they thought lost. 

A women pushed her way through the crowd, holding a bow and arrow. She looked weary, beaten. Her hair was covered in soot, and her clothes were torn. She took short, forced steps. Her steps were focused, set on finding something. Once beautiful dark hair was ragged and disordered. Thorin ran to her, heart overjoyed. She had overcome all difficulties and found her way back to him. She was beautiful, even as dirty and weary as she was.

She turned at hearing his pounding footsteps and broke into a huge grin. He came to a stop before her, taking her into his arms. He could smell the smoke, the blood on her. He didn't care. It was her, his âzyungâl. He started to cry all over again, silent sobs into her hair. She had nestled her head into his neck, and Thorin could hear her crying.  He caressed her back, relishing the feeling of having her in his arms again.

There was a tap on his shoulder. Thorin pulled away reluctantly, leaving a hand on her shoulder. She wiped her eyes with her hand swiftly. Thorin smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head. He gave his own eyes a quick pat, removing the majority of tears. He turned to the old dwarf who had tapped his shoulder. He was short and stout, a merchant by what Thorin could tell. His once fine robes had been soiled by soot and were singed with dragon-fire. 

"M'lord?" He said tentatively, not wanting to anger the prince.

"Hmm?" Thorin replied, a bit annoyed someone had ruined the moment with his soon-to-be wife.  He noticed Dis had moved away to give them space.

"(Name), m'lord. She was..." The old dwarf paused, then spoke again. "She was wonderful, M'lord. She lead all of us merchants out of the Trade Hall. She saved us. I just, I just thought you should know." He bowed and walked away before Thorin could say anything to him.

Thorin turned to her. She had a small smile on her face, and had strapped her bow on her back. 

"You did lead all those people home, didn't you?" He smiled and kissed her forehead. "My princess. You'll never stop amazing me, will you?"

She simply shrugged at him. "It was nothing. It had to be done, so I did it."

Thorin kissed her briefly. He wanted more, but not here. Not now. He took her hand and lead her over to where he had been sitting earlier. He would need to talk to her, about what had happened and how she had managed. There was comfort to be given and received, plans to be made, and a new home to be found. It would be tiring work, but Thorin would do it willingly with his âzyungâl at his side.

 


End file.
